“It took me a long time and most of the world to learn what I know about love and fate and the choices we make, but the heart of it came to me in an instant, while I was chained to a wall and being tortured. I realised, somehow, through the screaming of my mind, that even in that shackled, bloody helplessness, I was still free: free to hate the men who were torturing me, or to forgive them. It doesn’t sound like much, I know. But in the flinch and bite of the chain, when it’s all you’ve got, that freedom is an universe of possibility. And the choice you make between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.”

“The choice you make, between hating and forgiving, can become the story of your life.”

“I know that you do love me," Jo told Lynn, "and that makes it possible for me to grow, just as love makes it possible for an infant to grow. But you know that I don't like my dependency on you. I'm willing to accept it for a time, because I believe you when you tell me that my acceptance of dependency on you heals a very old need. But I really hate it. I hate being an emotional infant. I want to grow free of you. "If I didn't feel that your love accelerated my growth," Jo added firmly, "I'd fight against it." (165)”

“I hate it, all of this," I screamed, my voice breaking. "I even hate him, even him." A huge sob came up from my chest.And I did, right then. I hated you for everything; for making me feel so helpless everywhere I went, for making me lose control. I hated you for all the emotions in my head, for the confusion... for the way I was suddenly doubting everything. I hated you for turning my life upside down and then smashing it into shards. I hated you for making me stand with a whirring fan in my hand, screaming at my mum. But I hated you for something else, too. Right then, and at every moment since you'd left me, all I could think about was you. I wanted you in that apartment. I wanted your arms around me, your face close to mine. I wanted your smell. And I knew I couldn't-shouldn't-have it. That's what I hated most. The uncertainty of you. You'd kidnapped me, put my life in danger... but I loved you, too. Or thought I did. None of it made sense.”

“Love me, then, or hate me, as you will," I said at last, "you have my full and free forgiveness: ask now for God's, and be at peace.”

“I made the best mistakes. It was not like the sun came up or I stopped crying or I had any more power within me. It was not like all those sensual metaphors of awakening that keep you chained to hope. I still go to bed at night and hate—and hate knowing that the world's a mirror.”